


Just Confetti

by SuperBlondie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (duh), Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Depression, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamory, Read the tags so you know what's coming, Sad, Sad ghost club, Suicidal Thoughts, This is really sad, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperBlondie/pseuds/SuperBlondie
Summary: The man with auburn hair stops a few feet away. He looks at Minseok, and then his eyes dart just a little to the side. “How long,” he asks.“How long since what?”The man with auburn hair looks to Minseok again, holds his gaze. There’s something like pity in his eyes. It’s mostly overshadowed by exhaustion, exasperation, annoyance, but still, there’s pity. Minseok is so fucking sick of pity.“How long since he died?”





	Just Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the [Mood Board Bingo!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/moodboardbingo) It's for moodboard 26!  
> So this is a thing that I have created. I don't really know how or why it took shape, just that it crawled its way into my brain and refused to leave. This was definitely inspired by The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix though. I've watched in three times and I'm still absolutely in love with the characters and the setting and the story. Also the flashes from the present to the past and how it all came together in the end *kisses fingers like a chef* But yeah, there bits and pieces of the show scattered throughout this fic, especially in dialogue and the overall sadness. 
> 
> This is the saddest story I've ever written and I want you guys to be aware of that. Like the tags aren't lying, this is sad as fuck. But I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> As always a big thank you to [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/Aarushi_c18) for helping beta this fic! And!!!!! A big thank you to [Lily](https://twitter.com/seulfir), who came on board and betad this entire fic in a day (like holy shit)!!! You guys are a really big help (and also the comments you leave on google doc fill my need for praise and validation akfdajkdf)

“Hey, you! Yeah, you, pinkie!” Minseok stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks up from his feet. The fog settled over the ground shifts and splits, curls up around his legs. It’s tinged pink by the sunset – Jongdae loved the fog at sunset, loved sitting on the porch and staring down their street, surrounded by muted pink. Minseok never really cared for pink that much, but Jongdae loved it. It was a part of him.

Sometimes, the pale rose in Minseok’s hair feels like the only part he has left.

He turns his head and watches as a man jogs across the street towards him, puts an arm up and yells something as a car skids to a halt a few feet away from him. Auburn hair bounces as he runs. Jongdae always loved auburn hair, said he’d try it out one day once he finally got tired of his natural black.

Jongdae never got to try out auburn hair.

Sadness lands on Minseok’s shoulders like cinder blocks and pulls him down. Today had been such a good day too; he’d been able to get out of bed on time, had cooked himself real food for the first time in weeks. The first good day in weeks. He asked the other people in the groups online how long it takes for good days to come back, for him to start feeling some semblance of normal. And no one could give him an answer besides _it takes time_. Minseok knows it takes time, he just wants to know how much.

How much longer until he stops feeling so hollowed out?

The man with auburn hair stops a few feet away. He looks at Minseok, and then his eyes dart just a little to the side. “How long,” he asks.

“How long since what?”

The man with auburn hair looks to Minseok again, holds his gaze. There’s something like pity in his eyes. It’s mostly overshadowed by exhaustion, exasperation, _annoyance_ , but still, there’s pity. Minseok is so fucking sick of pity.

“How long since he died?”

Minseok’s jaw drops. His chest feels like it’s imploding, the bone-deep pain he’s come to live with squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe. That’s not a question he’s heard before, not said like that, at least. _How long since it happened? How long since you lost him?_ No one’s ever asked the question like that, like a doctor asking about basic medical history.

It feels like the wind whips up around him, fog at their feet spreading out and curling like it’s been kicked. But Minseok’s feet are rooted to the spot with shock. “Three…” Minseok pauses, counts the days since his life was torn apart. “Three months. Four in two weeks.” Two weeks, six hours, and eleven minutes.

Minseok was there, just outside the window of the hospital room, when the doctor called it. Heard them announce the time of death through the glass. He hears it in his dreams, hears it as he lies awake, staring at the ceiling on his side of the bed. Never touching Jongdae’s side of the bed, leaving it just as immaculate as it was that morning.

The man frowns. “That’s a long time.” Minseok flinches. It’s not, it’s barely any time at all. It feels like just yesterday that Minseok was rolling over in bed and trying to convince Jongdae to take that Friday off and spend it together. “Why are you still here,” Minseok follows the wave of his hand to a spot just beside Minseok. “You should’ve been gone a long time ago, not following this guy around.”

There’s nothing but still air beside Minseok. There hasn’t been anything or anyone beside Minseok in weeks. But the man watches the space with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. His face softens, head tilts to the side.

The sunset shimmers on the horizon over the man’s shoulder. A hint of a tattoo peeks out from under the collar of his shirt. “Love him that much, huh,” the man sighs. “But you can’t stay here. You’ll go insane and then you’ll drive him insane.”

“Wh-who,” Minseok turns and stares at the empty space. He reaches over, hands shaking with with desperation and sickly-sweet hope and just because he can’t stop fucking shaking anymore, and runs his fingers through the air. The air is still, tense, like just before lightning strikes. “Who are you talking to?”

And the man with auburn hair steps forward and smiles, small, gentle, pitying. His eyes soften. “Thomas O’Malley,” comes out in a sing-song. A rhythm Minseok has heard so many times while sitting in bed, steam pouring out from the shower.

“The alley cat,” Minseok finishes, voice breathy and cracking. Tears well up. Jongdae’s voice echoes in his ears, saying that he’s much, much too manly to be a kitten – _Minseok_ is the kitten, he’s cute enough, Jongdae was the tomcat. Thomas O’Malley, because he loved _The Aristocats_ so much.

And they never told anyone. It was their thing, just between them. Because Minseok didn’t mind it if Jongdae called him _my little kitten – loved_ it – but he didn’t want anyone else to know. It was _their thing_.

Minseok whimpers. He squints, tries to see beyond the veil the way the man with the auburn hair must be able to. One of the psychics, the mediums. But he can’t see anything beside him but air, can’t hear anything but the crickets coming to life in the grass.

Just like every other moment since Jongdae’s heart rate monitor flat-lined, no matter how hard he’s tried to feel something else, Minseok feels nothing but sadness.

Jongdae had always joked around, said that if he died, Minseok couldn’t just fall to pieces. Because that’s the last thing Jongdae would want for him. But Jongdae doesn’t know how _hard_ it is. Minseok’s the one left behind, the one who has to live in an empty house, has to lie in an empty bed and try to sleep, who sets out two plates for meals. The one who spends every second of every hour of every day with the memories of Jongdae and the knowledge that those memories are all he has left.

Jongdae is _gone_ , he doesn’t know how hard it is to be the one who stayed.

Minseok feels electricity race up his hand. Air shifts for just a moment, and Minseok can almost _see_ the outline of a smile. “Jongdae,” he whispers, breath catching in his throat. He’d hoped, then squashed those hopes down because he wanted Jongdae to rest, and then hoped even harder. But after so long with no signs, he’d let the hope die. “Jongdae, baby?”

“Yeah,” the man with auburn hair says, “he’s here.”

\---

It was an open casket. Jongdae’s parents requested it – _demanded_ it. Jongdae wanted to be cremated, wanted his funeral to be a party. Wanted everyone over at his and Minseok’s place to have a party celebrating their relationship, keeping Minseok company. But Jongdae’s parents demanded a funeral, demanded something somber and dignified, and Minseok and Jongdae’s wedding wasn’t for another six months so he couldn’t stop it.

He made sure Jongdae was cremated though. Jongdae never wanted to be buried, left in a wooden box to be eaten up by worms. So Minseok fought and pushed to have Jongdae cremated, and then he drove the box of ashes out to the sea and dumped them all out so that he could travel the world for the rest of forever. Minseok sat on the beach and cried as he watched what was left of Jongdae disappear in the waves and currents. But it was what Jongdae would’ve wanted, so he did it.

He made sure he did that for Jongdae, but the funeral was open casket.

Minseok sat in the front row, had more people, all their friends, all Jongdae’s aunts and uncles and cousins, stop by and say _sorry for your loss_ or _I’m here if you need to talk._ And then they would walk up to the casket and say their final goodbyes. They tried to do a eulogy, but Jongdae had stopped talking to his parents so long ago that they had nothing to say besides _we abandoned our only son because he liked fucking men_ and Minseok couldn’t come out of the grief-induced stupor he was in for more than five minutes.

So there was no eulogy. There was nothing but the visitation, the whispers around the room talking about how kind he was, how wonderful, gentle, smart, lovely, _perfect_ he was. Minseok only half-listened. He stayed in his chair and stared at the big, blown up photo he took of Jongdae on their sixth anniversary that was settled on a big easel next to the casket.

Slowly, slowly, everyone left. Aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, even his parents, everyone trickled out of Jongdae’s funeral eventually. They all went up to the casket one last time, got one last look at Jongdae, and then left.

Minseok sat in that funeral parlor until the workers came to cremate Jongdae. He sat there, maybe five feet away from the love of his life, the doll-like creation the funeral workers had made of him, and refused to move. He never talked, just sat and stared at the picture he took of Jongdae.

He still doesn’t know what Jongdae looked like in his casket, doesn’t want to ever know. He wants to remember what Jongdae looked like when he was alive, not in a casket, not – not on a hospital bed as doctors worked so, so hard to save him.

When he finally left the funeral parlor and drove home, box full of Jongdae in the passenger seat, he pulled over maybe half a mile away and sat there in the front seat. He sat in the driver’s seat, watched as the sunset turned the world pink, and cried.

\---

The man with auburn hair’s name is Baekhyun. He takes his coffee with so much milk and sugar that Minseok probably should’ve just made him hot chocolate. Minseok drinks his black, just like Jongdae used to. The matching mugs they bought for their first anniversary are hidden away in some cupboard. He hasn’t touched his since Jongdae died. Chanyeol hid them for him just after the funeral, told him where they were just in case he ever wanted to get them back out, but put them somewhere out of sight.

Minseok looks down at the mug he has now, a company mug from work that he doesn’t care about. Baekhyun has the other one. Minseok’s boss had sent him home with two a year ago, _one for the missus_.

Minseok remembers how hard Jongdae laughed when Minseok told him that. How he’d swooned over onto the couch and said it was so kind of Minseok’s boss to think of _little ol’ me._ How his boss’ eyes had gone so wide when Minseok brought him to that year’s Christmas party and spent the next week trying to assure him that he hadn’t meant to be offensive with the mugs. Minseok hadn’t really cared, but he and Jongdae never used the mugs anyway.

Why would they? They had their matching set.

Baekhyun blows at the steam rising off his mug, looks around the little kitchen Minseok and Jongdae shared for three years. “Nice place you got here.” It’s messy, messier than it was even when Jongdae was around – _alive_ – to dirty it up. Minseok just hasn’t been able to find the energy to clean.

Baekhyun looks around at the plates in the sink, the mail on the counter. Minseok feels shame crawl up his spine. His fingers itch to clean for the first time since he got the call from the hospital three months ago. He isn’t sure if it’s because there’s finally someone here to witness his mess, or if it’s because – if Baekhyun is telling the truth – Jongdae is here, _has_ been here, and he knows that the mess is Minseok’s sadness scattered throughout the house. Or if maybe he’s just finally starting to move on and the parts of him that had shrunken away with Jongdae’s death are finally coming back.

Maybe it’s all three. Minseok doesn’t know. Nothing makes sense to him anymore. There’s no sense in a world without Jongdae.

Tears rolls down his cheeks and drip into his coffee. He pushes the mug away, suddenly not thirsty anymore.

“So, Minseok, I need to be honest with you,” Baekhyun says after a sip of coffee. He sighs and props an elbow up on the table to rest his chin on his fist. “I’m not…I’m not used to this sort of thing. I don’t see ghosts often, haven’t really since I was eighteen. And even when I do, I do _not_ get involved because you’re not supposed to unless you’re like a registered medium, but, uh, Jongdae is pretty fucking persistent. Ghosts are supposed to fade away within a few days, you know?”

Seventy-two hours. Minseok knows that number well, had counted down the hours after Jongdae died for just one more chance to see him, to say goodbye. But Jongdae never appeared. Most people don’t. Most people disappear after they die, spirit floating away to wherever they’re meant to be. Only ghosts with a strong will or a damn good reason can stay behind, need an ever stronger will or reason to make themselves visible to anyone but mediums. Minseok knew the chances of seeing Jongdae again, especially considering their supposed extreme lack of sensitivity to the veil and everything beyond it.

But he’d hoped. They’d loved each other so much, so fiercely for so long, that Minseok had hoped they’d overcome the odds and get a last few precious moments to be together. Seventy-two hours came and passed without him though; Minseok accepted it for what it was.

And then he was stopped on the street by a strange man with auburn hair and more tattoos hidden under his jacket than Minseok had ever imagined one person could have, who said that Jongdae has been following Minseok around for _weeks_.

Minseok walked past Baekhyun’s tattoo parlor multiple times a week on the way to the grocery store, so worn out with grief and shock that he could never plan to buy food for more than two days at a time. And Baekhyun swears that Jongdae was at his side, walking with him the whole way, every single time. Talking to him, shouting, _screaming_ at him, but Minseok couldn’t hear him, not a single word.

According to Baekhyun, Jongdae didn’t realized he could see him until last week. Then he’d turned all his efforts into getting Baekhyun to talk to Minseok for him. “And I didn’t want to. I try not to get involved in matters between the dead and the living.”

Minseok looks up from the table. “Then why did you?”

“Jongdae’s really fucking annoying when he wants something. I could only take so much whining before I cracked.” Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders and grins.

Minseok laughs, and the sound shocks him. It’s been so long since the last time he laughed, he forgot what it was like. “Yeah,” he closes his eyes, tries to feel for some sign that Jongdae is somewhere near, “It’s always just easier to give in with him. He’s really sweet when he’s satisfied.” Jongdae _is_ , he still _is_. Minseok wipes at his eyes, sniffles to keep the worst of the tears at bay. Jongdae _is_ , not _was_ , not gone, not the past, but present, _here_.

“He’s sitting in the chair next to you, by the way.” Baekhyun levels his spoon at the chair on Minseok’s left. “And he says he’s sweet all the time, at least to you.”

Minseok lets out another watery laugh and rests his hand on the old wooden table, palm up. It’s like touching a storm front. Now that Minseok knows he’s here, he can feel the difference between plain empty air and Jongdae. He’ll have to get good at picking up on that without Baekhyun there to tell him where Jongdae is; he hopes he’ll have to, at least. “I can feel you,” he whispers. Tears come unbidden because he can _feel_ Jongdae. Even if he can’t see him, there’s the knowledge, the comfort that settles itself deep into his bones, that tells him Jongdae is really, truly, right here with him.

Baekhyun sets his spoon down. “And he’s sorry that he died,” he says, voice quiet, “He wasn’t watching the road and the semi came out of nowhere. He didn’t even have time to hit the breaks. He tried to stay alive…”

“Your injuries were too extensive. It took the paramedics too long to get to you. And even if they’d gotten there as soon as you crashed – they probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything differently.” Minseok sobs, sees Baekhyun wince out of the corner of his eye. How awkward it must be for him, to sit and watch as two people fall apart in front of him and all he can do is relay messages – Minseok knows Jongdae is falling apart too, he always cried more than Minseok. “I-I don’t know how much you could understand that night, but I – I _saw_ you. And I think you were going to die no matter what the doctors did. I prayed that you wouldn’t, but Jongin was there and he looked through your chart and…and he told me to get ready.”

_Oh, Minseok…_

Minseok looks up as the words whisper past his ears, like someone screaming from far, far away.

Baekhyun clears his throat. “Jongdae knew you were there when he died. He doesn’t know how he knew, but he knew you were close by.”

“I was right there, on the other side of the glass. Jongin told me that it might be easier for me if I wasn’t – if I didn’t watch you die.” Minseok smiles a bitter, painful smile. His heart aches as he remembers that night, how scared he was, how scared _Jongdae_ must have been. “But I couldn’t let you go alone. They let me in as soon as they called it, and I sat with you until they took you away.” He held onto Jongdae’s cold, bloody hand and cried until the morgue workers finally came for him.

“He knows. He was with you the entire time.”

Minseok’s heart twists for Jongdae, for what it must’ve felt like to realize he was dead, to only be able to watch Minseok lose his mind. Jongdae attended his own funeral, didn’t he? Staying at Minseok’s side as people milled around and stared at his lifeless, empty body. He was there when Minseok threw his ashes into the sea. Jongdae’s been here for so long, helpless to do anything but watch as the world went on without him.

Minseok loves him _so much_.

He wishes he could see him, even just hear his voice again.

Baekhyun clears his throat, cup of coffee almost empty. He must be uncomfortable. Minseok feels guilty even though Baekhyun was the one that stopped him in the first place, the one who invited himself over to Minseok’s house. He probably didn’t think he’d get stuck watching this; though Minseok isn’t sure what Baekhyun could’ve thought would happen.

“I’m not really sure what’s supposed to happen now,” Minseok says. Jongdae is here, and that’s more than Minseok could have ever asked for – a chance to say goodbye. But Jongdae isn’t supposed to be here anymore and Minseok can’t see him even though he is. They’re still on opposite sides of a veil made of concrete. “Where do we go from here?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “I told you, I don’t do this sort of thing. I’m not even a certified medium, just sensitive. The only thing I know is that Jongdae’s gotta move on. Ghosts that stay end up insane become poltergeists after a while. All of them. And we all know what happens to poltergeists.”

Minseok nods. He’s seen poltergeist removals on TV before, the destruction, the carnage, the way they stick themselves to a person or a house so strongly that the only way to make them let go is to tear their souls to shreds. He can’t see that happening to Jongdae, losing so many pieces of himself to time and the veil that he goes insane and _haunts_. Tears the world apart, tries to pull Minseok beyond veil by force. Minseok can’t see it, and he _won’t_.

“I know, but I don’t want him to.”

“And that’s fine, because I don’t think he’s planning on leaving anytime soon,” Baekhyun frowns at the air.

Minseok smiles softly. Jongdae was – _is_ so stubborn. "Dae, you can't stay." Minseok loves him too much to let him stay.

"He loves you too much to go. His words, not mine." Baekhyun shrugs and taps his fingers against his mug, drumming of his nails on ceramic breaking up the awkward silence. Minseok watches him, watches as the tattoos that run up his arms and onto the backs of his hands and his fingers stretch and shift with every movement. They're pretty, and Minseok remembers how he used to talk about getting one when he was younger.

He still wants one now, something pink, something Jongdae would like. Jongdae mentioned designing one for him way, way back. Said it would be the first real piece he made once he picked art back up again. He never did, but maybe he can now.

Jongdae is so, so stubborn. He won't move on until he's ready. Minseok knows he should be fighting harder, more concerned about Jongdae's soul twisting into something monstrous, but just a few days, weeks, months wouldn't hurt. Would they? Minseok just wants a little bit more time with Jongdae, even if Jongdae is just this strange presence in the air next to him.

After three weeks without him, it's more than enough.

The silence stretches on. Minseok looks at his hand and watches the air shimmer for seconds at a time, light bending around Jongdae's delicate fingers. It's nothing like seeing him, _feeling_ him, but after so long with so little it's _good_. Even just this little bit is so _good_.

"I missed you so much," he says even though he's said it a million times already.

"He missed you too." Minseok realizes that Baekhyun is still here. Baekhyun is sitting here at the coffee table in silence, only speaking to relay what Jongdae has said. And that isn't right. Baekhyun's gaze is focused on the bottom of his empty mug, and that isn't right. Baekhyun has already done so much. Just taking the time to stop Minseok on the street, helping him realize Jongdae is still here, it's already so much. He knows Jongdae is here; that's enough for him.

It's not enough for Jongdae, because nothing short of perfect is ever enough for Jongdae, but Minseok reaches across the table and rests his free hand on top of Baekhyun's, "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. Like you said, you're not a medium, and you're not a relay station either."

Baekhyun looks up. With his eyes so wide, black bangs falling into them, he looks so young – even with the tattoos. He looks so young, so kind. His mouth falls open, "A-are you sure?" He winces and Minseok rolls his eyes. He nods. "Jongdae's not really agreeing with you. Please stop yelling, you're really loud."

"Baby, calm down." Minseok wishes he could see Jongdae, could reach over and brush his fingers over his cheek the way he always he used to when he got too worked up. But he can't, and he's doing his best to make peace with it; what he has now is already so much more than he thought he'd ever have. "Baekhyun doesn't owe either of us anything. He told me about you. I know you're here, isn't that enough?"

"I don't think I have to tell you his answer," Baekhyun's says shyly. He scratches the back of his neck, fidgets in his seat, shoulders tense. People are always tense when Jongdae's working himself into a fit. He's loud most of the time, loud when he's happy, when he's hungry, when he's nervous, but he's _loud_ when he's mad.

Minseok sighs. "No, you don't. But this _has_ to be enough. What would you have him do, huh? Live in our house? Follow me around to work? I love you, but I won't ask Baekhyun to become your personal translator." The air crackles around Minseok and he can almost see the outline of Jongdae's body, the curve of his shoulder, the upset pinch of his mouth. "Even if I'm only ever able to just feel that you're here, that's enough. If it's you, it's enough."

The air settles. Minseok feels something whisper over his face. He leans into the touch and hums, savoring the nearly-there brush of Jongdae's fingers against his skin.

He's been crying this whole time, silent, warm tears running down his cheeks from the sheer emotion of knowing that Jongdae is still here, still by his side. He wonders if Jongdae's been crying too. Which one of them cried harder at his funeral, every night after that.

Baekhyun clears his throat and offers Minseok an awkward smile. "You're good at calming him down."

"Had a lot of practice."

"If – if there's ever anything important," Baekhyun says, "like whenever Jongdae is ready to move on, I'll give you my number and you can call me. I'll help you say goodbye." Baekhyun blinks. "I-I mean, if I see you guys around I guess I can pass on a message or two. Yeah, yeah, I promise, just stop yelling!"

Minseok huffs out a breath through his nose. "Thank you, Baekhyun, really. That's very kind of you." And Baekhyun shrugs as he stands up from the table, cheeks burning pink. Minseok stands as well. "Dae, you stay here and cool off, I'm going to walk Baekhyun out. Think about what movie you want to watch. I think if I focus, I'll be able to tell which DVD case you're touching."

Baekhyun's voice is soft, quiet, careful, as Minseok walks him to the front door. He ties his sneakers and stands, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. He extends one colorful hand and meets Minseok's eyes with a sincerity that makes Minseok's heart twist in sympathy. "I'm sorry. That he died. That I can't do more. That you can't see him, or even hear him. There's some research about people becoming more sensitive to the veil if they know there's a ghost nearby. So, you know, you never know."

Minseok's ears ring with a whine, far off and hardly audible. But it's there and he would know it anywhere. Both he and Jongdae were supposed to have no sensitivity to the veil whatsoever, but you never really know, you know?

\---

Minseok stares at the air in front of him so hard his head hurts. All his focus is narrowed in on this one moment in time, hands fisted in the comforter and every muscle in his body pulling tight. Heavy, electric air settles over his hands. A throbbing starts up behind his eyes. He grits his teeth against the pain hammering against his skull, blurring his vision, until it’s all just too much to hold. But Jongdae’s side of the bed stays empty.

He throws himself backwards, bouncing on the mattress. “Why can’t I just see you,” he whispers, voice catching as he tries to suppress a sob; he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes to stave off tears that feel nauseatingly selfish. “I know that you’re here, I can _feel_ it. You’re right – you’re right here. And I said that was enough, but I just want to _see_ you.”

Weight shifts around the bed, settling just beside him. Minseok opens his eyes to an empty room and it stings. “Do you…do you think I’m selfish?” The ceiling fan whirs, the only sound in the room. He repeats the question again, softer, scared, but no answer comes. No answer will _ever_ come.

They’ve been trying all weekend, sitting across from each other. Minseok will focus, stare where he can feel Jongdae, while Jongdae screams, yells as loud as he can. But nothing has changed. Jongdae is still just the air before a storm. Minseok’s tried to make peace with that – he said he would when Baekhyun was here a few days ago and he _meant it_. But it’s so much harder to settle than he thought it would be.

Minseok bites his lip and rolls over, turns his face into the comforter.

He doesn’t have a choice about settling though, does he? Baekhyun mentioned research about people becoming more sensitive over time. Minseok looked it up and it was all done on the normal seventy-two-hour ghosts, how people would hear the ghost at first and by the end of the seventy-two hours got to look them in the eye and say goodbye. It’s been over seventy-two hours since Baekhyun told Minseok about Jongdae, much, much longer since Jongdae became a ghost in the first place. And Minseok has been able to do is feel the air Jongdae occupies, hear his voice for a fleeting moment.

If things were going to progress, if he was going to grow more sensitive, it would’ve already happened.

Jongdae curls in close. The heavy, tense air settles around him. “I love you,” he whispers, “more than anything.” Minseok leans into Jongdae, into the strange weight of his touch.

And it’s so hard to settle. Accepting that this is all he’ll ever have of Jongdae again feels like a kick in the solar plexus. But it’s not the worst pain, not even close. Nothing will ever compare to how it felt to lose Jongdae in the first place. So, he forces himself to settle.

He shuts his eyes, pictures Jongdae’s face, how his eyes look when he smiles. Minseok relaxes into the comforter, feels the softness of it under his skin. He and Jongdae picked it out together when they got engaged and he can still hear Jongdae’s voice as he convinced him that they needed new sheets – _it’s our marriage bed, Minnie!_ Like they hadn’t been sleeping in the same bed for years, like Minseok had ever shared a bed with anyone before Jongdae.

Minseok had gone home with people, but never taken anyone home before Jongdae. They both knew that; Jongdae just wanted new sheets.

Minseok laughs, but he sniffles too. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to hold back the tears even as he smiles. “You and these sheets. Had to have the nicest sheets, huh?”

_You deserved the best things. But you’d never buy them just because you wanted them._

Minseok's eyes fly open. "D-dae?"

Minseok had turned off the ceiling light earlier, convinced the darkness would make it easier to see Jongdae. The only light he has to go by is the moonlight gently filtering in through the curtains. It shines down on the bed now. Minseok can see how it falls on his own hands splayed on the comforter in front of him. And then he looks away, up, to where he could feel Jongdae's presence.

The outline of a body meets him. There's no detail to it – just a mass of black with the general curves of a body. Jongdae always liked to lie with their faces nearly touching, nose-to-nose even though Minseok was always worried he'd sneeze right in Jongdae's mouth. There's a head there now. He reaches out with hands that shake and hiccups as his fingers brush across something terribly, wonderfully, unbelievably solid.

"Hey." The skin, not warm, but not cold, shifts under his fingertips as Jongdae's mouth pulls into a smile.

_Hey._

It still doesn't sound right, Jongdae's voice from the other side of the veil, but it's closer than it was before. Instead of coming from miles away, it sounds like he's just on the other side of the house.

Minseok should've run out of tears by now. He's cried so much over the past three months that his body should've just decided that tears aren't worth the effort, but he always manages to find more stored somewhere behind his eyes. Sometimes he wonders if they're a back-up from all the years he never cried.

When he was with Jongdae, he hardly ever cried. When Jongdae's parents rejected him for good. When Minseok got down on one knee and proposed in the snow in their yard, in front of two snowmen he'd decorated to look like grooms. When they would stay up late, so tired that everything was funny, laughing until they cried. Little moments in time, tears that never lasted more than an hour.

He feels like he's more than made up for all those tear-free hours now. And yet he's crying again, so happy at the shape lying next to him in the dark that he can't stop the tears from falling.

Fingers, nothing more than dark shapes rising up toward his face, brush along his cheeks.

_Don't cry, kitten. This is supposed to be a happy moment._

"I _am_ happy," he presses himself along Jongdae's body, nose-to-nose just the way Jongdae likes, "That's why I'm crying."

Weight settles around his waist, holding him close, and it _aches_. The pain that had settled in his bones, wrapped around his ribs, infected every cell in his body, it all starts to ease. He's been so lonely, so fucking lonely. It had eaten at him, ripped up so many pieces of him he never thought he'd ever be whole again. Not that he ever could be whole again without Jongdae. But he's whole now, because Jongdae is _here_ and holding Minseok close. How could Minseok ever feel pain in Jongdae's arms?

Minseok sobs into Jongdae's chest. He falls to pieces, lets himself hurt and cry, and it's okay because Jongdae will hold him as he puts himself back together.

He doesn't know if he'll still be able to see Jongdae tomorrow, still be able to hear, to _touch._ But for now, he's not alone.

"I love you," he repeats it like a mantra, a prayer, like if he says it enough Jongdae will turn warm, a heartbeat will start under Minseok's ear, and everything will go back to the way it was. It won't, he knows it won't. Words don't have that kind of power, but maybe they have just enough to make Minseok sensitive to veil and what lies beyond. To just one person beyond it. That's all he needs.

Jongdae holds him until he cries himself to sleep, matching every _I love you_ with one of his own.

And in the morning, Minseok's alarm goes off and he groans, rubbing at sore, puffy eyes. He turns to hit the snooze and finds he can't, stuck in place by heavy arms around his waist. "That's my alarm, yours isn't for another hour." Minseok opens his eyes to a soft, cat-like smile, gentle fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to see me."

\---

For someone Minseok never noticed before, he sees Baekhyun all the time now. He passes the little tattoo parlor a few times a week to get the grocery store or any of the other shops in town and Baekhyun is always there. Sometimes he's sitting outside on the front steps, other times he's at his station in front of the big window in the front, hard at work with a tattoo gun. He always waves when he sees them, a little shy, a little awkward, but sweet.

Once, when the street is empty and there's no one to see it, Minseok grabs Jongdae's hand and raises it up high, pointing to where their fingers have intertwined. And Baekhyun just smiles wide and claps, giving them two thumbs up. Minseok doesn't know why he felt like he needed to show Baekhyun that he could see Jongdae now. Maybe to ease any possible guilt he might've had about not acting as their messenger boy? Maybe just to celebrate?

Still, it's nice to have someone to show Jongdae off to.

Jongdae calls Baekhyun weird one night as they're walking home from the store, Baekhyun closing up the tattoo parlor all by himself. Jongdae asks why someone who can see ghosts wouldn't being using that talent to make good money.

"I don't think he _likes_ seeing ghosts. You remember how badly just seeing you stressed him out? That might've just been you though. Dealing with you is stressful when you're happy, no telling what you were like before I realized you were here." And Jongdae protests and whines, calls Minseok mean and chases him all the way home, pretending to be an evil spirit from the movies.

"I still think he's weird," Jongdae says as Minseok's putting away groceries. For all that Minseok can see, hear, _touch_ him now, Jongdae's still not able to really interact with non-human objects.

It's good; the ability to move non-human objects is a sign of a poltergeist. Jongdae whines about not being able to help, but Minseok can see the relief on his face when he goes to grab an apple and phases right through it.

"You can think whatever you want," Minseok shrugs, "but _I_ think he's very kind. Not everyone would've helped us out for free like he did. Without his help, I'd still be alone and you'd still be trying to get my attention."

Jongdae grumbles to himself, quiet for the rest of the night. Minseok hadn't meant to chastise him, not really, but he's also not complaining. Minseok loves Jongdae more than anything in this world or the next, will _never_ love anyone the way he loves Jongdae – doesn't mean he can't still get on Minseok's nerves from time to time.

The next time they pass the tattoo parlor, Baekhyun sitting on the front steps eating an apple, Jongdae doesn't even wave, just takes Minseok's hand and pulls him across the street. Baekhyun watches with wide eyes, apple halfway to his mouth and his free hand frozen in a wave.

"Hey," Jongdae says.

Baekhyun chews on his apple and blinks, sleeves of his shirt slipping down to show his tattoos. And Minseok is struck by how pretty they are, how pretty Baekhyun is. "Hi?"

Jongdae sighs. Minseok watches as he crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot the way he always does when he's about to do something he doesn't exactly want to. Like apologize or swallow his pride. He wonders if he should intervene, maybe just say _something_ because Jongdae's eyes slide toward him like he's asking for help.

But Minseok doesn't say a single word, just stands there and smiles.

Baekhyun looks away from where Jongdae looks like he's about to explode and returns Minseok's smile, a little less confident, a little more self-conscious. He really doesn't know what to do around ghosts, does he? Or maybe it's just people in general that make him so uncomfortable.

"Come over for dinner tonight."

"What," Baekhyun and Minseok sputter in unison.

And Jongdae just repeats himself, mouth screwing up like he's got a lemon in his mouth. "Come over for dinner tonight. We owe you. For helping us out before."

Baekhyun's cheeks flush pink like the sunset, like the ink on his neck. "I-I don't know."

Jongdae's shoulders relax, probably thinking that this means the end of whatever debt he owes to Baekhyun that he's made up in his head, but Minseok claps his hands together. "That's a great idea! Why didn't I think of it before? Please, Baekhyun, we'd love to have you over!"

Baekhyun sputters. He flounders for excuses to get out of it, Jongdae offering a few of his own, but Minseok just grins and refuses to budge. "You've done so much for us, let us do this for you."

"I really didn't do that much, you know," Baekhyun says.

"You've done more than you know," Minseok leans his head on Jongdae's shoulder, "Right, baby?" The tension that had been building in Jongdae's body releases all at once as he's reminded of what it was like before Baekhyun finally caved and stopped Minseok on the sidewalk.

"Just come over. He's not going to take _no_ for an answer." Jongdae turns his head to kiss Minseok's forehead. And those sort of touches still feel so strange, like butterfly wings brushing over his skin. "And...and neither will I. If it wasn't for you," Jongdae pauses, jaw tensing. Minseok reaches up to try and smooth out the twitching muscles. Jongdae catches hand and kisses the tips of his fingers, eyes going soft. "Just come over for dinner. Minnie's a good cook."

So Baekhyun nods, eyes still wide in shock. Minseok grins. No one's ever been able to withstand the both of them. "O-okay, if you guys are sure."

"We're sure."

They leave with Baekhyun's number in Minseok's phone and a promise that he'll be over by eight-thirty. Minseok looks back just before they turn the corner toward the grocery store. Baekhyun is still sitting on the steps staring at his phone. It reminds Minseok of the day he and Jongdae first met, stuttering and stumbling over words and fluffy new feelings.

He isn't sure how he feels about that.

\---

Their friends said they jumped the gun on their first kiss. It was in the middle of their first date. They'd driven out to a lake and watched as people set off fireworks without a care for the laws saying they were only allowed on special days of the year. Jongdae had a hatchback, and they'd sat in the space behind the backseats of the car, laughing as the police and the drunk college students shouted back and forth at each other on the other side of the water.

The blues, reds, and yellows of the latest fireworks exploding in the sky had looked so beautiful on Jongdae's skin, reflecting in his eyes. Minseok could only watch him as more fireworks went off overhead, white, purple, pink.

Minseok had leaned in close, captivated by his beauty, by the way he tossed his phone into the backseat, proclaiming that Minseok deserved his full attention. Jongdae had turned to look at him, had met his eyes as the fireworks popped and fizzed.

"I really want to kiss you," Minseok had breathed.

Jongdae had smiled and leaned in. "Oh thank God," his voice was sweet, melodic, "I've been wanting to kiss you since I picked you up earlier." And Minseok had just leaned in the rest of the way, pressing their lips together. It was only their first date. They were so young, so inexperienced and uncertain of how to navigate the world and real, adult relationships.

But Minseok saw a future in Jongdae's eyes, heard his favorite song in his voice. Minseok didn't know much about anything, but he knew that Jongdae was the one for him.

\---

Jongdae wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him in when he starts to back away. "You're the only one I ever wanted," he says softly. There's a movie on in the living room. Minseok's trying to cook dinner, irritating bubbling under his skin as Jongdae keeps trying to distract him, to butter him up. "I'll be more careful next time. I didn't mean to scare you."

Minseok huffs but gives in, never able to stay mad at Jongdae for long. He lets himself be held, head tucked into Jongdae's neck and arms winding around his middle to hold him close. "You gotta watch the road. What if you hadn't been able to stop in time, huh? What if ," Minseok chokes on tears he tried to shove way down deep.

Jongdae coos, pressing kisses along his brow, pouring out promises to be more careful, to never take his eyes off the road for a single second ever again. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't cry. I'm here. I'm perfectly fine, not even a scratch on me. I'm okay."

And Minseok twists his fists in Jongdae's dress shirt. He sniffles and wipes his tears off on Jongdae's neck, laughing when he tries to flinch away. It's what he gets for coming home with the story of how he nearly got into a car crash.

"What if you _weren't?_ What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

Jongdae just pulls him in for a kiss that settles his fears, pushes them down until they sink like silt to the bottom of a river. " _Nothing_ is going to happen to me. I'm not leaving you, kitten. You're never going to be without me."

\---

Baekhyun comes over for dinner at least once a week after the first time. Minseok thinks he's good company, sweet and not so awkward now that Minseok and Jongdae have settled enough to include him in conversation. He's still awkward though, tripping over his words and picking at his napkin when he thinks he's made a misstep.

And he thinks he makes _a lot_ of missteps.

Minseok raises his glass of wine to his lips and meets Jongdae's eyes, eyebrows shooting up in a _look_. Baekhyun is picking at his napkin now, grimacing at his plate for some reason Minseok can't even begin to understand. He was so much more confident that first day on the sidewalk, fueled by a purpose and Jongdae telling him what to say.

But now Baekhyun is shy, thinking about every word before he says it, and then regretting them the second they leave his lips.

"You know," Jongdae drums his fingers against his own cheek, "I thought you'd chill out after a while. Like, you keep acting like we'll scream at you if you say something that is not absolutely, one-fucking-hundred-percent perfect." Baekhyun looks up and blinks in surprise. "Just relax, okay?"

Minseok nods. "We wouldn't keep inviting you over if we didn't like you."

"But you invited me over the first time because –"

Jongdae cuts him off, sighing, "Because I called you weird and Minseok made me feel guilty about it by pointing out that without you I'd still be screaming into oblivion, watching the love of my life spiral into depression. But now we like you. You're a good guy."

Minseok drops his head into his palms with a groan as Baekhyun asks, "You think I'm weird?"

"Shit."

"Good job, Dae." Minseok reaches across the table and rests his hand on top of Baekhyun's. "He _used to_ think you're weird, and not because you can see ghosts or anything. Just – just because."

"I thought you were kind of an asshole at first," Baekhyun says with a laugh, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a smirk, "so I guess it kinda evens out, right?" Jongdae chokes out a laugh. "That's why I've been so nervous. Like I once called my mom and complained to my mom about the asshole ghost that yelled at me at least twice a week. And then it turned out you were actually this really nice guy who was just desperate to get your husband to realize you were still there. I felt like such a _jerk_."

Minseok smiles and watches the atmosphere shift like a cloud moving out from in front of the sun, pink light floating in through the window. Jongdae and Baekhyun dissolve into laughter. "Well, now we know that we're all jerks, so there's no reason to feel awkward, right?"

"Hey," Minseok scoffs, "don't include me in this. _I'm_ not judgmental like you two."

"Bullshit, kitten. You are one of the most judgmental people I have _ever_ met." Minseok levels Jongdae with a frown, and Jongdae shrinks into himself. Baekhyun giggles from across the table as Jongdae gives a sheepish and darts in to press a kiss to Minesok's cheek. "Did I mention that I love you? Because I do, very much so."

"Love you too," Minseok sighs.

"You guys are cute," Baekhyun says after a moment. "Is that okay to say?" Minseok nods, offers him a smile. Baekhyun returns it, more comfortable in their space than he ever was before. "Good, because you are. You just kinda fit together, you know?"

There's something wistful in his gaze, a little envious. Baekhyun watches them for a little while longer. And then he excuses himself, saying he has to get up early to open the shop in the morning. Minseok and Jongdae try to convince him to stay for desert, just a little longer, but Baekhyun is stubborn and only promises to come over for dinner during the weekend sometime.

"Dae," Minseok leans into his side as they sit on the front porch steps, watching Baekhyun's tail light disappear into the fog as he drives away. Jongdae hums in answer.

There's something Minseok wants to stay, words jumbling around in his head as emotions tangle and twist. There's something there, something that makes his stomach flip and his skin crawl. Something that he sees in Jongdae's eyes, in the curl of his lip. But he doesn't know what it is or how to make it make sense. So, Minseok just sighs. "Nothing, just love you a lot."

Jongdae makes a soft, happy noise. "Love you too."

\---

Baekhyun becomes a fixture in their lives. Texts to join them for dinner become random questions become short exchanges become phone calls become trips to the tattoo parlor just to see him.

He shows them all of his tattoos and explains the ones that have stories, just laughs about the ones that don't. _Just thought it'd look nice_.

All of his tattoos look nice. Jongdae is very partial to the color scheme of black and pink, the way it's so different to the softness of the auburn of Baekhyun's hair. Jongdae says it's a play on how the world perceives people. Minseok says it's because Baekhyun just likes pretty things, pretty designs, pretty colors, pretty hair, _pretty people_. Baekhyun says they're both right. _Especially the part about pretty people_.

Minseok isn't sure how he feels about that part. He isn't sure how he feels about the way Baekhyun and Jongdae will smile at each other, the way he catches Baekhyun looking at him, the way he catches _himself_ looking at Baekhyun.

Minseok loves Jongdae. He loves him more than he's ever loved or will ever love anything in his entire life. Without Jongdae, he falls apart. But Baekhyun is kind, is funny, He makes Jongdae laugh and Minseok smile. Without any of them meaning for it to happen, Baekhyun fit into Jongdae and Minseok's life.

And no matter how Minseok tries to explain it to himself, tries to make any of it make sense, it won't go. Jongdae always says there's no way to make sense of feelings, but damn if Minseok doesn't try. Damn if he doesn't try to explain it away as a product of circumstance, as a fleeting moment in time, as a passing fancy.

Damn if Minseok doesn't try to not care about Baekhyun. And damn if he doesn't end up caring about him anyway.

\---

"I should've been watching the road," Jongdae whispers. Minseok shuts his eyes and sighs up at the ceiling. Candlelight dances in front of his eyelids. Jongdae had made him dig out all the candles they own and set them up around the bedroom. Something they used to do all the time because Jongdae thinks sex by candlelight is the most romantic sex possible and neither of them are very conscious about fire-safety.

There's no chance of sex now, but Jongdae still wanted the romance.

It feels sad instead. The darkness and flickering light struggling to lift the heavy tension settled over the bed.

Jongdae started it. He'd asked Minseok what it felt like when he touched him, if it was anything like how it was before. It's not, it's nothing like when Jongdae was alive, and Minseok had answered honestly. The way the touches are there but not there, how he can feel them because he expects them. Touching through the veil, Jongdae's fingers never truly able to reach his skin. But Minseok wouldn't trade it for anything short of bringing Jongdae back to life completely. It's more than Minseok ever expected to have, and it's enough.

But not for Jongdae. Nothing short of perfect has even been enough for Jongdae, and so he'd started to apologize for dying, for the car crash and the way his heart just couldn't keep beating.

Minseok doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to hear apologies. He just wants to spend a nice night with the love of his life. "Dae, leave it."

"No," Jongdae sits up, "I promised – I _promised_ to be more careful and I wasn't watching the road and it got me killed! It was my fault, Minseok! Doesn't that bother you? If I'd been watching the road, if I'd just listened to you, I'd still be here."

Minseok keeps his eyes shut, presses the heels of his hands against them. "You think I don't know that?" He takes a shuddering breath. How could Jongdae think that Minseok doesn't know that? "I was so fucking mad at you. I didn't tell anyone because what kind of person is _mad_ at their dead fiance? But I _hated_ you for not listening to me. I told you – I fucking _told you to be more careful!_ And you didn't listen!"

Silence stretches between them. The residual anger drains from Minseok's bones and he lets his hands drop to either side of the bed next to his head, opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. Softly, "Why didn't you listen?"

Jongdae lies back down at Minseok's side. He gathers Minseok into his arms and kisses his forehead. "I don't know, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The apologies drift away in the air, useless.

"I am too." Jongdae scoffs but doesn't respond. Minseok pinches his side only to remember that Jongdae can't feel pain anymore. And any chance of a romantic night goes up in smoke as Jongdae's heart stays silent under Minseok's ear.

The candles continue to burn. Minseok lies in Jongdae's arms, feels fingers run through his hair. Quiet hangs over the bed, taking every second and pulling it like taffy until minutes feel like eternities. Minseok rolls over onto his back and takes one of Jongdae's hands in his own. It looks just like it did before he died, candlelight reflecting off his fingernails, casting shadows against the bed. But it's not the same, because even as he touches, his brain tells him that it isn't like it should be. It's not warm; there's no pulse in his wrist.

Jongdae is here. Jongdae is _here_. But he isn't.

"How much time do we have left," Minseok asks. He expects the shrug he receives in answer but hates it all the same. "You can't stay here forever, Jongdae. You can't wait until I get old and die either."

"But I can try." Minseok shakes his head, laughing even though it isn't funny. "And why not," Jongdae smiles. It's as bittersweet as Minseok feels.

"I won't let you. You're everything to me, I won't let anything hurt you, not even yourself." Jongdae's smile falls. Minseok pokes at the corner of his mouth and his heart wrenches in his chest because he can't push at Jongdae's face the way he used to. He can touch, can play with his hair and his fingers, but he can't force Jongdae's lips up into a smile through the veil. "You'll start to lose yourself if you stay too long."

And Jongdae just nods. "I know. I know that I'll hurt you if I lose too much, and I know that I'll hurt you if I move on. You're the last person in the entire world I want to hurt." Ghosts can't cry, not in any way that the living can see, but Minseok knows Jongdae would cry if he could.

"I'll lose you forever if you stay too long. But if you go, we'll just have to wait for a little while to see each other again. Because you'll be waiting for me on the other side, right?"

"Of course. I'll be the first thing you see. But just...not yet. I'm not ready to go yet." Jongdae blinks at him, so beautiful it's hard for Minseok to breathe. And Minseok commits this moment to memory, just as he has with every single moment he's had with Jongdae since he died. Locked it all away to keep for when Jongdae eventually moves on. "I'll move on when it's time."

"And when will it be time?" Jongdae just shrugs with a little smile that's as sad as it is knowing. He leans in for a kiss and Minseok gives it easily, letting the sadness and inevitable loss bleed away for just a little while.

\---

Minseok comes home one Friday to Baekhyun already sitting in the living room. He and Jongdae are sitting side-by-side, Jongdae screeching as Baekhyun dodges a fireball Bowser spits out at him. Jongdae’s hair is a mess, probably because he always runs his hands through his hair when he gets stressed. Baekhyun doesn’t look much better. He’s perched on the couch cushion like a bird and leaning so far forward Minseok’s a little worried he’s going to fall over.

Minseok toes off his shoes, hangs his bag on the hook by the door. He leans forward until his head hits the wall with a gentle thud and he sighs. Work had never been worse, never dragged on so slowly, the way it had the past week. Jongdae had mentioned how tired he looked this morning, and then his boss had come by during his lunch break and asked if he needed any more time off for bereavement. _I heard that some people do good the first few months and then the grief hits them._

He'd refused the extra time off because he used up all his paid time off after Jongdae died. No matter how kind his boss is, there's no chance the extra time off includes pay.

The entire drive home, Minseok looked forward to slipping out of his shoes and falling face first on the couch, vegging out in front of the TV with Jongdae until his stomach demanded he get up for food. Just like they used to before, when Jongdae went to work and ate like a starving teenager.

Instead, Minseok rests his head against the wall for a few seconds and then straightens up, turning on his heel and shuffling out to the living room with a tired smile. Baekhyun's hair is up in a ponytail on the top of his head to keep his bangs out of his eyes, black roots showing underneath the auburn. Minseok feels his smile get a little less tired. It's cute. Baekhyun's always been pretty, but like this it's hard to see him as anything but cute. He's even cuter when he looks away from the TV and smiles up at Minseok, "Hey, you're back! How was work?"

Jongdae screeches again, "The screen, Baek, the _screen!_ Oh – how was work, kitten? Ready for the weekend?" Minseok grunts and drops down onto the couch beside him, curls into his side to try and hide from the ache forming behind his eyes. "Take that as a yes."

"You okay?" Minseok cranes his neck around to see Baekhyun staring at him with a little frown, eyes filled with concern. Minseok nods and jumbles out some excuse about work. On screen, Mario is crouched in a corner even though Jongdae is whining for Baekhyun to keep going. "Is...is it okay that I'm over? You mentioned that Jongdae gets lonely during the day when you're at work now that he has to stay home, so I figured I'd stop by and hang out with him since I have a key and can see him. I can go though, if you want. I probably should've asked before I showed up."

Minseok smiles and reaches over to pat Baekhyun on the thigh. "You're fine, Baek, don't worry about it. I wouldn't have given you a key if I didn't want you to drop by and hang out."

Baekhyun grins. They keep staring at each other, smiling, until Jongdae whines and Baekhyun turns to refocus on the game. Minseok looks up at his fiancé and blinks when he finds Jongdae staring back, eyes narrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth in thought.

"What?" Jongdae just shrugs. Minseok sighs. "Don't think too hard," he presses his lips to Jongdae's cheek, "smoke's gonna start coming out of your ears."

"Jerk," Jongdae grumbles.

Minseok laughs to himself and resettles in Jongdae's arms. He closes his eyes against the bright light of the TV. His headache is building in his temples, behind his eyes. He tries to hide from it, shove it away, but he knows it's not going to do him any good. The headaches that come after a long week nearly always turn into migraines, and there's no escape from a migraine.

The TV chimes out a victorious tune. Minseok cracks an eye open to see bright, colorful text flash across the screen and it's enough to make his head _throb_. Jongdae and Baekhyun cheer, the noise covers up Minseok's groan.

“Fucking finally,” Baekhyun yells.

"Take that you woman-stealing turtle bitch!" Jongdae launches off the couch. And he's not corporeal, not really. There are a million strange, contradictory rules for how he can and cannot interact with the world of the living. First and foremost seems to be that he is _not_ corporeal in any way that really matters, and yet when he jumps up, Minseok tips all the way over onto the couch without something to lean on.

And that's fine. Minseok doesn't care. The couch is soft and he tipped over so far that he landed in Baekhyun's spot and it's nice and warm there.

Baekhyun and Jongdae keep screaming, so excited about beating the game. Minseok hasn't heard Jongdae sound do excited – so _happy_ in so long; it makes him happy too, to know that Jongdae is happy. He just wishes they weren't so _loud._

"H-hey, guys?" Minseok's skull feels like it's about to crack apart, headache rocketing up in intensity as Baekhyun and Jongdae just keep _screaming_.

"We did it!"

"I know! I can't believe it. We've been at that all day!"

"All _day?_ I tried to beat that stupid game for _years_ until you came along! How are you so good at video games?"

Their voices keep rising, talking over each other and Minseok. The pressure in Minseok's head rises too, builds and builds, leaving Minseok gasping as the stress from the workweek comes hammering down on his skull. "Babe, Baek, guys, please chill out for a second." It all just keeping going, swirling like a storm. "Dae...Dae, I just need a second. For the love of fuck, _Dae!_ "

Minseok feels guilty before the scream even leaves his mouth. His head just hurts _so bad_ and Jongdae usually notices, tries his best to be quiet and sit with Minseok until it passes. He's just so caught up with the game and Baekhyun that he didn't notice. Minseok knows it's not Jongdae's fault, not Jongdae's job to be on Minseok's migraine watch.

Silence settles over the living room and makes him feel that much worse. Jongdae hasn't been so happy like that, not in a long time. And Minseok ruined it.

"I'm sorry," Minseok whispers, misery in his head feeding off the guilt. He bites down on his lip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."

"Another headache?" Minseok cracks an eye open and sees Jongdae kneeling next to the couch. He nods. Jongdae frowns. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? Baek, sit with him while I go grab some painkillers?"

Baekhyun takes Jongdae's place with a nervous frown. The ponytail on the top of his head bobs and sways as he moves and Minseok snorts. "You look like a show-dog," he reaches up and flicks at the tuft of hair. "Like a Shih Tzu or something."

Baekhyun's jaw drops. "No, I don't!" Minseok nods and flicks the ponytail again. "'Just because you've got a headache doesn't mean you get to bully me. And you know, I could say that you look like a show-cat, especially with your pink hair."

Minseok laughs. "I don't think cat shows allow dyed hair." He runs his hand through his hair that's faded so much it barely registers as pink anymore. Should he dye it again? His boss has never cared about dyed hair so long as work gets done. "I did it for Jongdae, a few days before the accident. I never really liked the color pink, wanted to try blonde, but after it was bleached Jongdae convinced me to try pink."

And then Jongdae died and the pink felt like all he had left. He had planned on keeping the pink forever. He told himself that he'd never really have to say goodbye to Jongdae if he kept his hair pink, which he knows was just grief-driven nonsense. It's grown on him though.

"I think it looks good on you," Baekhyun says, voice soft, hesitant. "I think you'd look nice with any color hair though."

"Yeah?" Baekhyun nods. His cheeks turn pink and Minseok wonders if his look the same.

The moment feels paused, like the clock has stopped and they're just staring at each other. There's a little ball of emotions in Minseok's chest, so many things he can't or doesn't want to name tangled up into a little glowing mass. Minseok notices it all the time, but he can't help but think about how pretty Baekhyun is.

He wonders if Baekhyun thinks the same about him.

The moment shatters when Jongdae calls from the bathroom, "So I forgot that I can't actually touch things. Baekhyun, can you help Minseok into the bedroom and then come get these painkillers for him?"

"Yeah," Baekhyun calls back, "of course. Can you walk or do I need to carry you or...?"

Minseok waves him off. "I can walk myself to the bedroom. Just go help Jongdae." He wants the moment back, wants that careful, playful silence that had hung between them back. And then he doesn't, because it makes him feel dirty for reasons he doesn't want to think about.

\---

Minseok didn't mean to fall asleep. The exhaustion from work and painkillers had dragged him under regardless. When he wakes, there's no throbbing in his head, just left-over sleepiness from his nap. He pushes himself to sit up and yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He considers lying back down and sleeping through the night when his sense finally catch up to the rest of him.

Soft music floats into the bedroom, static-y and distant the way old records always sound. He knows that sound, knows this song.

He blinks and lets the song wash over him for a moment as the singer croons for their lover to come just a little closer. His head is still heavy with sleep, the cogs in his head working to shake off the cobwebs. Minseok lets the song pull him out of bed though, crawls out from under the covers to follow the sound to its source.

He remembers lying on the hard floor of a dorm, shitty, cheap carpet barely covering the concrete underneath. Only one lamp to light the room, bathing them both in yellow light that was anything but flattering. But Jongdae still looked perfect as he told Minseok all about each and every record. Each and every record that Jongdae had picked out and treated with the utmost reverence like he was worshiping a god.

In a way, he was.

Minseok tiptoes down the hall to Jongdae's office, the room he'd kept shut even after he learned that Jongdae hadn't really left. The door is cracked open, light and sound spilling out from the crack and the space underneath the door.

He pushes it open just a bit more, sinks down to his knees, and peers through the crack. It feels like peeking in on a secret he's not supposed to know. He smiles to himself when he sees Baekhyun and Jongdae leaning against the wall not more than a few feet away, both of their heads leaned back and eyes shut as they take in the music.

Minseok remembers when that was him, how nervous Jongdae had been to share his records with him. The records he'd picked out so carefully. And he'd turned on his record player after their fourth date, opened himself up and let Minseok hear the music that meant so much to him.

Minseok had never loved music as much as Jongdae, never _really_ understood how it made him feel, but he knew what it meant for Jongdae to share his records then. What it means for Jongdae to share his records now.

"You know, I have a few records back home too," Baekhyun says as he gets up to go change the record as the song ends. He treats them just as Jongdae did, so careful in the way he holds them and slips them in and out of their cases. "Maybe I could bring them over and show them to you?"

And Minseok stands. The ball of emotion from earlier untangling and then twisting itself into something that makes a little more sense, isn't quite so scary. He listens for just a second more as Jongdae and Baekhyun murmur about the records Baekhyun has at home, the ones Jongdae has in another box for Baekhyun to grab.

Then he turns and walks back to the bedroom to go back to sleep, leaving them to their music.

\---

Minseok squeezes his eyes shut as the tattoo gun buzzes. He sucks in a few breaths, hopes they'll calm him. They don't. He just tenses up as the buzz gets closer, louder, and then stops.

Baekhyun sighs fondly, "You don't have to get a tattoo if you don't want one, Min." Minseok opens his eyes to the clank of the tattoo gun being set back on the metal tray nearby. Baekhyun pats him on the thigh, eyes so open and honest and concerned that it makes Minseok’s stomach flip. Baekhyun's hair is up in a ponytail again. He doesn't want to risk his hair falling into his eyes and making him screw up a piece, especially _this_ piece.

Jongdae is looming over Baekhyun's shoulder, watching as Minseok shifts in his seat. The pink from the sunset shines in from the window and casts over them both, tinting the world so softly. It's picture Minseok wants to frame even though he knows no film could capture Jongdae's eyes, Baekhyun's gentle smile.

He'd still like to try though.

"I do want one." Minseok's always wanted a tattoo at least a little, and seeing the ink covering Baekhyun's body has just made him want one that much more. Especially the one sitting on the metal tray next to the gun, outlined on his arm in pen – the one Baekhyun designed for him.

It's simple, so simple that Baekhyun will probably convince him to sophisticate it later on, but for now it's all Minseok could ask for. The flower petal, drawn in the same style as all of Baekhyun's tattoos, stares back at Minseok. Next to the paper design and stencil is a bottle of ink Baekhyun had mixed just for him; he mixed the pale, cloudy pink for Jongdae and they all know it, just don't want to admit it.

"I'm just nervous about the pain," Minseok says after a moment. "Kinda wish I had a hand to hold or something, you know, like my _fiancé’s_ hand."

Jongdae comes around to settle at Minseok's other side with a sheepish smile. "Sorry," he murmurs as he slips his hand into Minseok's, "Your official stress ball has arrived. Squeeze as much as you need to." It's not like holding a living person's hand, off just a hair, but Minseok can squeeze and that's all that matters.

Baekhyun starts up the tattoo gun again and brings it in close to Minseok's arm. Minseok huffs out a breath and forces himself to relax. His heart beats rabbit-quick in his chest and he can feel himself already tightening his grip on Jongdae's hand.

"I need to tell you something." Minseok hums in response and Baekhyun sighs. "This will actually be the worst thing you feel in your entire life."

Minseok doesn't even have time to scream before the needle hits his skin. He braces for agonizing pain with every muscle in his body, but it never comes. It stings, burns, but that's it. It takes a few moments for Minseok to realize he's not about to die.

"Wha-what the fuck?"

When he blinks his eyes open, Baekhyun is staring at him with the biggest, brightest, most irritatingly beautiful grin. "Hardly hurts at all, huh?"

Embarrassment makes Minseok's cheeks flush hot. Jongdae is giggling at his other side before darting in to kiss his cheek. Minseok just lets his head thump back against the headrest of the chair and stares up at the ceiling. "That wasn't nice. I don't like you."

\---

“You like him.” Minseok startles and nearly drops his coffee. Early morning sunlight streams through the kitchen windows and reflects off the counters. Minseok stares at the shine for a moment, gently sets his mug down and drums his finger along the ceramic handle. Jongdae’s words hang in the air around him, ring in his ears.

There’s no question as to who the _him_ is. There’s no way for him to deny the accusation that’s much too soft to be angry, not with the still healing tattoo on his arm, the way he smiles when Baekhyun’s name pops up on his phone. Guilt shoots through his veins. He feels sick, dirty. He never meant for it to be obvious, certain it was a little crush that would die off in a few weeks.

But it didn’t, so Minseok just nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

He and Jongdae speak at the same time and Minseok’s eyes widen in confusion. He turns on his heel to look Jongdae in the eye. Jongdae’s just leaning against the fridge with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Even now, the strangest kind of resignation obvious in the way his gaze never strays away from the collar of Minseok’s shirt.

“Good,” Minseok repeats, asks. Jongdae nods. “How is that good?” His mind is already connecting all the dots as he asks – he and Jongdae have always been so in sync. Jongdae’s smile just grows more bitter, wobbling. “Dae,” Minseok starts and then realizes he doesn’t know how to finish.

“You should go for it, for him. I think he likes you too. You guys would be cute together.” Jongdae makes a deep, shuddering noise like he’s trying to keep himself together.

Minseok crosses the kitchen in a few steps, shoves himself into Jongdae’s space the way he’s always done. “ _We’re_ already cute together. Us, me and you.” And they are, they’ve always been nauseatingly cute together according to friends, according to Baekhyun himself.

Minseok cups Jongdae’s face in his hands and urges his head up to look him in the eye. It’s not like how it used to be when Jongdae was alive, Minseok able to actually push his head up instead of just pushing and hoping Jongdae will listen. Ghosts don’t follow the same rules as the living. Jongdae gives in and raises his head, “But we’re not really together the way we were before, are we? The way you and Baekhyun could be.”

“Jongdae,” Minseok sucks in a breath through his nose to try and calm the tears clogging up the back of his throat.

And Jongdae’s eyes are so _sad_ , open and expressive with a kind of misery Minseok doesn’t want to see. Not from Jongdae. “I still love you. This isn’t me trying to push you away because I stopped loving you – I could _never_ stop loving you. But Baekhyun…he’s _alive_ and I’m _dead_. I’m not here, not really, not the way you need me to be.”

“Any way you’re here is the way I need you to be. I just – just need _you_.” Minseok’s never needed someone the way he needs Jongdae. He doesn’t think he ever will. Jongdae’s the love of his life, the _only_ love of his life. “I lost you once,” he whispers, “I won’t do it again just because you’re…”

“Dead. I’m dead, Minseok. And that’s – it’s not okay but it is what it is. Baekhyun’s not. Baekhyun can kiss you, hold you, _be_ with you. You can move on with him, _go out_ with him.” Jongdae cups his face and Minseok lets his own arms drop to his sides. “You never leave the house anymore, not unless it’s for work or to go to the store. And that’s because of me. I’m keeping you in the past, in this goddamn house, and you’re not moving on.

“And I was happy about that at first because if you moved on from my death, then you moved on from _me_. I was so selfish that I didn’t want you to ever move on. But I can’t be selfish, not with you, and if you don’t move on then I know I’ll break your heart all over again when I go. I can’t stay here forever, Minseok, not even long enough for you to go with me. But Baekhyun’s here and he can _stay_ here with you.”

Jongdae’s crying. Minseok can’t see it through the veil, but he knows. He’s loved Jongdae for so long that he just knows when Jongdae’s crying. If Minseok listens, he thinks he can hear both their hearts breaking into tiny, irrecoverable pieces.

He shakes his head. “I won’t do it.” Jongdae whispers his name, urging, plaintive, pleading. “No. It’s my choice to stay in this house with you every second I can. It’s my choice to date Baekhyun or not, my choice to move on or not. And I choose not; I choose _you_. I love you, Jongdae. You’ll always be my choice, my _only_ choice.”

Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut, jaw tensing. His hands pull away from Minseok’s face and clench into fists at his sides. “Then I’ll take the choice away. I’ll move on.”

Minseok feels sick. The world crumbles under his feet until he’s standing on a high wire; the only thing he has to hold on to, the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the bottom of an endless pit, is Jongdae. “No,” he whispers, begs, “You can’t do that. It-it’s not time. You’re still here, I still have time with you.”

Jongdae nods. “It’s time whenever I feel ready. And if moving on means you will too, then I’m ready to go. You’re always my choice too, Minseok, and that means choosing your happiness.”

“I’m already happy,” Minseok croaks, “With you, I’m happy. I’m _happy_ , Jongdae.” And he is. It’s not forever, he knows it’s not, but for right now he’s happy. He knows he won’t be when Jongdae leaves; he’s made peace with that as much as he can for now. But if Jongdae leaves under some stupid pretense of helping Minseok move on, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be happy again. Minseok shakes, feels his heart crack apart because he can’t lose Jongdae yet. He can’t. He’ll go on a thousand dates with Baekhyun, with _anyone_ , if it means Jongdae will stay just a little longer. He stammers it out between sobs, cries so hard he can’t breathe. “Please don’t go, Jongdae. Please, please, not yet.”

The chaotic, restless, desperate energy between them slowly starts to settle as Jongdae pulls Minseok in by his shoulders and holds him tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not leaving you, kitten, I promise. Not until I have to. God, I’m so sorry. I just – I just want you to be okay when I _do_ have to go.” They stand in silence, Minseok leaning into Jongdae’s chest.

Minseok lets out a shuddering breath as Jongdae’s fingers slide into his hair. “You like Baekhyun though, don’t you?” Minseok nods into Jongdae’s shoulder.

Because he does. He likes Baekhyun, likes his smile, likes the way he laughs. He likes sitting next to him on the couch and watching him play video games. He likes the way being around Baekhyun makes him feel, his company. And Minseok feels so dirty about it. How could he feel anything for anyone _but_ Jongdae? He shouldn’t, he never did before. But now he does and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Then that’s what matters,” Jongdae whispers. “You like him and he likes you, that’s what matters. I shouldn’t have tried to blackmail you into it, but if you like him, I want you to see where things between you two can go. And if it doesn’t go anywhere, that’s fine. If it’s too weird for you or for him, that’s fine. But just…just try?”

“Yeah,” Minseok says with a sigh, “I’ll try.”

They pull away after Minseok’s breathing evens out and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to shake apart. Jongdae stays close though, never moving out of Minseok’s reach. Minseok wonders if it’s the residual guilt from threatening to leave that’s making him so clingy. He’s always tried to cuddle his way through apologies. Minseok doesn’t mind; he sits on the couch and lets Jongdae drape himself over his body.

“Hey,” Jongdae brushes his nose along Minseok’s jaw. Minseok hums in response, dragging his fingers up and down Jongdae’s back. “If you and Baekhyun kiss, can I watch?” Minseok chokes on his coffee, sputters and spits it out onto the couch. Jongdae grins. His feline smile is mischievous and playful, to the point where Minseok can’t really tell if he’s kidding or not. And Minseok loves him so much it hurts.

\---

Jongdae is the one to explain it to Baekhyun. He’s always been better with people, better with words and knowing just which ones to string together to get his way. The lights in the tattoo parlor are dimmed, the open sign on the door flipped around to show big red letters of _closed_. Baekhyun putters around the space, cleaning up after a long, busy day. Jongdae follows after him.

Minseok sits on Baekhyun's wheelie stool and listens as Jongdae carefully explains how he'd figured out Baekhyun and Minseok had a _thing_ for each other, the glances, the smiles, the soft words that were just too sweet to be completely friendly.

There's a moment where Baekhyun drops the paper towels he'd been using to wipe down a mirror and looks to Minseok with wide eyes. Minseok just smiles and imagines what it'd feel like to push Baekhyun's too long bangs back from his face.

"Holy shit," Baekhyun breathes and picks the wad of paper towels up again before setting them on a shelf and dropping down to sit on one of the chairs set up for people who accompany his customers getting tattoos. "I'm sorry, you guys, I was trying to be more subtle because – I would never, _never_ try to get between you two or do anything to make either of you uncomfortable."

Baekhyun is so guilty, so _genuine_ in the way he apologizes for something that isn't his fault.

It makes Minseok like him that much more.

"You didn't make either of us uncomfortable, right, Minseok?" Minseok nods and shifts in his seat. He braces his feet against the floor and rolls back and forth, listening as the wheels squeak and rumble. "See? We just...we just wanted to talk about it."

Baekhyun taps his foot against the floor. "Talk about what," Baekhyun asks. "I won't get between you two. Not my style." His leg bounces with nervous energy and Minseok can see that energy mirrored in the way Jongdae's gaze can't settle on any one place for more than a few seconds.

Minseok sighs through his nose, just a silent burst of air. Why would Jongdae try to push for something he doesn't really want? Because it doesn't matter what Jongdae says, he doesn't Minseok to date Baekhyun, not really. Jongdae's always been jealous; and that's okay, Minseok _likes_ that Jongdae gets a little jealous, a little possessive. It makes him feel loved, precious.

He doesn't like it now though, not when he can see how badly Jongdae doesn't want to encourage Baekhyun and Minseok to act on their feelings, how badly he wants to just sweep the whole thing under the rug and keep Minseok all to himself.

Jongdae is many things, jealous, possessive, snarky, and infuriatingly stubborn, but he's not selfish. No matter what he says otherwise, Jongdae is not selfish, not when it comes to Minseok.

"Minseok and I, we had a discussion last week, after I confronted him about his feelings," Jongdae drums his fingers on his thigh. Baekhyun makes a noise like he wants Jongdae to go on, but Jongdae freezes. He opens his mouth and then freezes in place, fingers curling into fists. Minseok's seen it before, when Jongdae had to apologize for something he really didn't want to apologize for, words physically fighting to keep from spilling out.

Minseok can see the panic in his eyes. He doesn't want to say it. Jongdae had planned out exactly what he wanted to say over the past few days, but Minseok watches the words on his lips die out with every passing second.

He looks to Minseok for help even though Minseok told him he didn't want to be the one to say it. He _did not_ want to instigate this, start something he knew would hurt Jongdae even if the other man swore that he'd be okay. This was Jongdae's idea and so Jongdae should be the one to say it.

But Minseok has never been able to refuse to Jongdae when he looks at him like that, frightened and hurt and begging Minseok for help.

"Jongdae wants us – Jongdae says that if we wanted to act on our feelings, see how things between us work out, we can. He wants me to be happy after he moves on, and he thinks that I can be happy with you."

Jongdae smiles at him, mouths a soft _Thank you_. And Minseok just nods back. He loves Jongdae so much, would do _anything_ for him if it was what he wanted. Even break both their hearts.

Baekhyun freezes, leg hovering mid-bounce. He looks up from the floor to meet Jongdae's eyes, then Minseok's. "Us date, just you and me?" There's something in his voice that Minseok doesn't quite understand, so he nods and tries to stop the confused frown that wants to work its way across his face. Baekhyun shakes his head. "No, no way."

"Huh?" Jongdae blinks. Minseok sees his own confusion reflected in Jongdae's face. "Why not? You like him, right?"

Baekhyun's eyebrows rise and he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I like _both_ of you. You two have always been a package deal to me, all or nothing." Minseok feels his jaw drop. Hope, bright and warm like the sun, flutters around in his chest.

"B-both," Jongdae sputters, "so you...you'd want to date _both_ of us? But y-you like Minseok. You're always smiling at him and flirting with him."

Baekhyun nods. "You were too busy thinking about the way I looked at Minseok to notice the way I look at _you_. Do you really think I'd spend an entire day beating Bowser for just anyone?"

Jongdae just stares off into the middle distance and Minseok can almost see the gears turning in his brain. "But...I...you...we...do I like you?" Minseok giggles, throws his head and laughs so hard he nearly falls off his stool.

"Oh, Dae, baby, you showed him your records. Is that a question you really have to ask?"

"I guess...I guess not." Baekhyun is staring at Jongdae, adoration so plain on his face that Minseok doesn't understand how he didn't see it before. "Oh wow, holy shit. We all like each other!" Relief washes over Jongdae's face like rain and Minseok smiles. "This means I can watch when you two kiss, right?"

Minseok sighs as Baekhyun and Jongdae throw their heads back and laugh. The sunset spills in through the big window at the front of the shop and Minseok watches as it bathes the room in a film of soft, hazy pink.

And Minseok isn't too much a fan of being cheesy or melodramatic, but he thinks that maybe, with the way it reflects off Baekhyun's hair and shines in Jongdae's eyes, that it looks a little like love.

\---

It happens slowly. Days turn to weeks turn to months of the three of them together, evenings on the couch watching whatever movie one of them thinks won't be too awful. They carve out time to spend as a whole, carve out even more space for them as pairs.

Jongdae will spend days at Baekhyun's shop or Baekhyun will use his days off to lounge on the floor in Jongdae's office and discuss music in ways that make Minseok's head spin. Minseok's come home more than a few times to find Jongdae and Baekhyun so deeply entrenched in a conversation he could never understand; they'll just wave him in and he'll lie on the floor between them, happy to just soak up the atmosphere.

Minseok and Baekhyun go on dates. They're never long, mostly lunch dates or the odd Friday night when Jongdae will shoo them both out of the house, but Minseok treasures them. He remembers his dates with Jongdae, how he'd never had so much fun before. His dates with Baekhyun, Baekhyun himself, are more fun than Minseok can ever remember having too, but it's a different kind of fun.

He tried to explain it once. The words were hard to pull up, twisting on his tongue and nearly impossible to straighten back out into sentences that made sense. But Minseok remembers comparing it to rides at an amusement park – Jongdae is a ferris wheel and Baekhyun is a roller coaster. Neither is better than the other, just good in a different way.

He doesn't know how Baekhyun and Jongdae think about their relationship, what little things their brains do to make sense of everything. It doesn't matter either, not really.

Minseok loves the both of them, they love each other, and they love him. That's all that matters.

Jongdae stays, longer than any other benign spirit ever recorded. Baekhyun spends nights in front of his laptop screen researching the phenomenon. All the sources say the same thing, that Jongdae shouldn't be able to stay so long with all the pieces of himself still intact.

Minseok writes it off as lucky. It's a product of Jongdae's unshakable will and overwhelming love for Minseok and life. Baekhyun says that so much of what mediums knew about ghosts was lost over time to witch hunts and the churches and scientists who just didn't know how to go about gathering evidence for ghosts. So there's a chance that perhaps some ghosts are just better suited to staying on this side of the veil without changing.

Minseok clings to that chance like a lifeline, pours all his hope into it and prays even though he's never been religious. For a while, it seems to be working. The anniversary of Jongdae's death comes and goes and he stays whole. For a while, it seems like Jongdae will stay until Baekhyun and Minseok can go with him.

And then Jongdae starts to wander.

Minseok wakes up one morning, Baekhyun still asleep on his chest because they stayed up too late the night before, to Jongdae walking across the room to stand with his face in a corner. "Dae," Minseok calls.

When Jongdae doesn't respond, Minseok eases Baekhyun off his chest and makes his way to Jongdae. He's mumbling to himself. His lips move in nonsensical patterns, spilling out sounds and halves of words. Minseok wedges himself between Jongdae and the wall. "Oh, oh no, Jongdae," Minseok caresses the side of Jongdae's face, stares into his blank, glazed eyes.

Minseok tries to swallow around the lump that's settled in his throat. The unease, the foreboding feeling of staring a storm in the face. He can see a piece of Jongdae disappear before his eyes.

He'd pretended it wouldn't happen for so long, shoved the inevitability of it so far down that it couldn't happen. They all knew it was coming though, he, Baekhyun, and Jongdae himself. They all knew this would come eventually, but eventually seemed so far away. A day that didn't exist.

But that day does exist, and it's this day, right now. And even if it's only a little hiccup, just a few seconds of standing in quiet terror before Jongdae blinks and he's himself again, so quick, so minor, that Minseok can almost pretend it didn't happen, Jongdae lost a piece of himself to the veil.

And he knows it. Jongdae looks around in confusion, blinking quickly as Minseok watches him try to understand what happened. "I was just watching the sunrise," he murmurs, "How did I...?"

Minseok opens his mouth to confirm the terrified question in Jongdae's eyes as he realizes he's nowhere near the window, that the sun is already up. He slowly closes his mouth a moment later. He doesn't have the heart to be the one to confirm it, to admit that the time to say goodbye is closing in, chasing them down like a runaway train.

Jongdae lets out a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut. "It's happening, isn't it?"

Minseok's chest tightens up. He can't find the air to speak, so he just nods instead.

It's happening. Jongdae's losing himself to the pull of the veil and there's nothing any of them can do to stop it.

\---

Jongdae stays a little while longer. The change from ghost to poltergeist is a slow process and Jongdae's only just started, losing time in hiccups instead of hemorrhaging it out. He had time. Not a lot, but some, and it was enough for Jongdae to decide to stay for just a little longer.

Baekhyun had asked if Jongdae was going to move on that first morning. He has asked if they wanted him to be here for something so precious. Minseok understood the question even as Jongdae got upset and asked if Baekhyun didn't _want_ to be there when he moved on. They were all whirlwinds of emotion, so terrified of the end galloping towards them that every reaction was a knee-jerk on. Not a rational thought in sight.

Minseok doesn't remember how they settled it, so caught up in his own head and silent begging for Jongdae not to go that he couldn't focus on anything else. But they worked it out and Jongdae made it clear that Jongdae wanted – _needed_ them both to be there when he left.

But he wasn't leaving yet.

The days after that were so precious. Minseok tried to dig his nails into them and force them to crawl, but they flew by. It felt like Minseok would open his eyes to Jongdae's face in the morning, take a breath, and then close them at night. Another day with Jongdae slipping away no matter how hard they all tried to make them stop.

The wandering got worse. Jongdae would lose minutes, and then hours. He would start to repeat something he said a few days ago verbatim, eyes glassy and far away. Once, he started holding a conversation that neither Minseok or Baekhyun could understand. They did whatever they could to bring him back, to figure out how far back in time Jongdae's mind had gone.

And then the next day, they had the exact conversation again. Only this time, Baekhyun and Minseok understood exactly what Jongdae was saying.

Jongdae's grasp on time fractured with every passing day, but he couldn't interact with objects yet. Ghosts can sit on things, lie down, rest on anything solid, but they can't move things, can't phase through objects either. So Jongdae just stopped understanding time the way Minseok and Baekhyun did, always seeming so confused and muddled unless one of them was there, touching him, grounding him in the present.

Eventually, touch stopped working.

Minseok didn't want to tell Jongdae that it might be time to go. His heart broke every single time he thought about saying goodbye; it broke whenever Jongdae would wander too, looking so scared as he dipped in and out of time unwillingly.

Minseok knew it was coming though. He knew it, Baekhyun knew it. Jongdae refused though. When he was lucid and understood where he was, he refused to leave, saying he needed just a little more time. That in a few days he'd be ready. And those few days become a few more days and then even more days.

Still, Jongdae clung to this side of the veil with all his might, sunk his teeth into this world and refused to leave. Even after he spent an entire day wandering, he refused to leave. And Minseok hated himself for it, cried in the shower and wanted to beat himself senseless for it, but he wouldn't ask him to move on either. Minseok's too much of a coward, too selfish. He believed that Jongdae would go when he was ready and shoved away the sickening notion that Jongdae's love for Minseok and Baekhyun was starting to twist.

And then Minseok comes home from work one day. Baekhyun is still at the shop, working late to finish a design for a client, but Minseok can hear Jongdae in the kitchen. Minseok kicks off his shoes at the door and smiles at how pretty the sunset looks spilling through living room windows.

Jongdae doesn't mention the sunset anymore, hardly even registers the color pink unless he's having a really good day where he's mostly in the present. But Minseok still thinks of him whenever he sees the fog on the ground.

Minseok crosses the living room and tiptoes into the kitchen. He knows what's waiting for him; it's been the same thing every night for the past two weeks. But tonight, just like every night, Minseok hopes it'll be different. That maybe Jongdae's deterioration will reverse and he'll suddenly get better.

It doesn't happen. Minseok's heart twists in cold, dark misery as he steps fully into the kitchen and sees Jongdae standing the middle. Not doing anything really, just standing in the middle of the kitchen with glazed eyes and a blank stare. He's not even talking to himself this time, just standing still. Minseok's not sure if that's good or bad. He just knows that the sight, the mounting evidence that Jongdae's getting worse, makes him want to curl into a ball and scream.

But he can't do that, because when Jongdae loses time he gets scared. He gets confused and frightened and he needs Minseok and Baekhyun to be gentle and warm and sure of themselves. He relies on them in a way he never has before.

Minseok steps in close, talking softly. It's all nonsense, placations, reassurances. Jongdae doesn't understand actual words when he's like this, just tones, and this tone has always seemed to help him the most. Minseok inches closer and closer. He works himself into Jongdae's space. Jongdae doesn't even seem to register that he's there.

It hurts, but Minseok's grown used to it. As much as anyone can grow used to something like this. It's not about Minseok. It's about Jongdae, about helping him through this until he eases back into lucidity. And touch stopped working to ground him a few weeks ago, but Jongdae says that he still likes coming to and feeling their hands on him.

So Minseok reaches a hand out to cup Jongdae's face, sweet words falling from his lips endlessly. His fingertips touch Jongdae's skin.

Minseok doesn't really know what happens after that.

"Don't touch me!"

Minseok feels himself flying backward. He doesn't fly far, not more than a few feet, but he lands _hard_. His back connects with the kitchen floor and all the air rushes out of his lungs at once. He lies there, gasping for air and trying to understand what happened. He registers the pain in his back, the animalistic fear and being sent flying without warning, but he doesn't _understand_.

He touched Jongdae, and then Jongdae yelled – _screamed_ at him. And then he went flying. Dread settles in his chest as the pieces fall into place.

"Oh," Jongdae sobs, sounding more like himself than he has in a long time, "Oh, Minnie, Minseok, I'm so s-sorry. I didn't mean to-o. I just – I just. Oh God, Minseok, what did I do? What did I _do?_ "

Minseok sucks in air and struggles to sit up. He just wants to get to Jongdae. He _needs_ to get to Jongdae. Jongdae needs him. He sounds so sad, so scared, so _guilty_. He's letting out these awful, screaming sobs and Minseok's heart is racing, stomach flipping with uncontrollable nausea.

Minseok finally forces himself to sit up, breathing through the pain in his back, and nearly falls right back over. Every cabinet in the kitchen is flung open, the chairs of the dining table knocked over. Nothing's been thrown out of the cabinets or broken, though the cabinet closet to Jongdae looks like it's nearly been blown off its hinges.

And in the middle of it all is Jongdae, crumpled in on himself as he cries, one hand reaching for Minseok but twitching back like he doesn't think he deserves to touch him anymore.

Minseok crawls across the kitchen, still trying to even out his breathing. He settles in front of Jongdae, so, so close. He should reach out and touch, offer comfort. But he's scared. This Jongdae, the love of his life, the most gentle person Minseok's ever known. And Minseok is _scared_ of him.

Jongdae continues to cry, so many pieces of himself lost that he _can_ cry on this side of the veil now. Minseok cries too. He reaches out with a shaking hand and brushes his fingers against Jongdae's. He's yanked forward, tucked into Jongdae's hold, and he sobs incoherently into Jongdae's chest.

Because Jongdae's not supposed to be able to pull him like that, not as a ghost.

"Minnie," Jongdae whispers through the tears. Minseok just nods. He knows what Jongdae's about to say, knows what all this means. The end, _goodbye_. "I-I think you should call Baekhyun, let him know." Minseok nods again. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Minseok leans up and presses his lips to Jongdae's. He kisses him as hard as he can, heart cracking into fragments. "I know. I know. It's okay, I forgive you. But..."

"But it's time for me to go."

\---

It happens on the floor of Jongdae's office. Baekhyun came as soon as he got Minseok's call, sending out emails to all his appointments for tomorrow that the shop will be closed due to a family emergency, and he's crying even as he settles next Minseok and Jongdae on the carpet.

Minseok doesn't tell him what happened, not yet. He doesn't want Baekhyun to be afraid of Jongdae in these final moments, not when Jongdae needs them most. Instead, he just says that Jongdae decided it was time and Jongdae nods along.

Minseok holds one of Jongdae and Baekhyun's hands in each of his own, squeezes tightly as if it'll stop them from ever leaving him. Jongdae and Baekhyun are doing the same thing. They cling to each other and try to force themselves to say goodbye when they don't want to. They really, really don't want to.

Watching Jongdae die, seeing the little heartbeat monitor flat-line, Minseok thought that was the worst thing he'd ever experience. It likely still will be because he never even got to say goodbye then, but this is a pretty fucking close second.

This is watching Jongdae die _again_ , just a different kind of death. Baekhyun whispers that it's nothing like death, because there is never any pain associated with moving on. And maybe that's true for Jongdae. But for Minseok, it's like standing in that hospital corridor, forced to watch and helpless to do anything else.

Jongdae's quiet. His tears dried a little after he committed to moving on, guilt easing with the knowledge that he's leaving before he does anything worse. Minseok and Baekhyun have been crying the entire time, ugly whimpers and hiccups that they couldn't stop even if they tried.

Minseok stares through eyes that won't stop pouring out tears as Jongdae's mouth curves into a smile that's hovering the border of bittersweet and peaceful. "Give me your hand, Baek," he whispers as he pulls his hand out of Minseok's, "It's time to say goodbye."

"I don't want to," Baekhyun shakes his head even as he's pulling away from Minseok as well. "It hurts too bad."

Jongdae nods, so understanding. "I know. It hurts me too. It's time though." There's still some clarity missing from his eyes, confusion clouding his face, but it's more than Minseok's seen in weeks. A sign that this goodbye is long overdue.

Minseok thinks he's going insane for a moment as a light starts to build in Jongdae's chest. "Oh," Jongdae whispers, "that's better. I feel...clearer now. Like I'm finally where I'm supposed to be.

"I wish I had met you sooner, Baekhyun. I wish I had met you when I was alive, wish we could have all lived together, wish I could have kissed you." Minseok watches Baekhyun fall apart, loud, gasping cries and a white-knuckled grip on Jongdae's hands. "But I'm thankful to have met you at all. You're an incredible person, smart, funny, stubborn enough to hold out against my whining so long ago, compassionate enough to give in because you saw how badly Minseok and I were hurting.

"I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. I love you so much, you know that? I love you, loved you so fast. You just fit into our lives so perfectly and I didn't understand how we'd gone on without you for so long. But that's the beauty of this relationship, isn't it? We belong together in any capacity. Things are best when all three of us are together, but are still wonderful as two."

"I love you so much, Jongdae. I love you. I love you." Baekhyun wheezes through the tears, curling in on himself. Minseok's crying harder too, chest tightening with every word out of Jongdae's mouth.

He's just as he always was. He's not confused or scared anymore. Jongdae's okay.

Jongdae leans forward and kisses Baekhyun's forehead, letting his lips linger in one last show of love. Then he pulls away, pulls his hand from Baekhyun's and turns to Minseok, who's already reaching for him.

Minseok smiles through the tears, because Jongdae's okay. "Jongdae."

Jongdae smiles back. "Minseok. You'll never know how much I love you. When I died, I saw the light, warm and peaceful and I almost left, but then I saw you in the hallway outside of my room. You were crying so hard, so scared and hollowed out from grief, and I knew I couldn't leave you behind like that. It hurt to turn away from the light, but I would die a thousand times, I would let myself be torn apart by the veil, if it meant you would be okay. That you wouldn't be left all alone with your sadness. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. Just to see you smile. Except watch the road, apparently." They both laugh, bittersweet and painful in the way love can be.

The glow coming from Jongdae's chest is nearly blinding, but Minseok can't look away. He doesn't want to miss a single second, not when these are the last seconds he'll ever have.

"You made life worth living. Every single day was perfect because you were in it, and that didn't stop even after I died. There are so many things I want to say to you. I could fill an eternity telling you how much I love you, all the ways, all the pieces of you that made pieces of me better. And I don't have that time now, but I will. Because remember, _remember,_ Minseok, that this isn't goodbye."

Minseok lets go when Jongdae pulls away from one of Minseok's hands to grab one of Baekhyun's; they're all connected again, the way they should be. "This isn't goodbye," Jongdae repeats, voice so warm, like a soft night spent lying in bed, like a birthday surrounded by friends. Like love. "I'll be with you for the rest of your time here, in the pink of a tattoo, in the stack of records, in the way you love me, in the way you two love each other. And when it's time for you to come home, I'll be waiting with open arms. But not too soon, alright? Live long lives together and then come back to me with stories."

"I love you," Minseok breathes, "I love you so much. Both of you." Baekhyun nods along, stammering out his own heartbroken declarations.

It's so hard. It hurts like someone is cutting Minseok's chest open, but Jongdae is glowing brighter. His eyes are fluttering shut like he's falling to sleep after a long, long day. Baekhyun squeezes Minseok's hand so tightly it feels like something may break.

And Jongdae fades away. He lets out a sigh and then disappears, Minseok's hand dropping to the floor, empty.

"He's gone," Baekhyun whispers. Minseok nods and then _shatters_. He falls into Baekhyun's arms and screams out his grief. There's no way to prepare to say goodbye to someone he loves so much. "He's gone, but we're still here. We're still here for each other."

They are. Jongdae's resting, finally moved on to be at peace, but Minseok and Baekhyun aren't alone. They still have each other to cry to, to lean on, to love.

"I can still feel him," Minseok says after he's finally cried out, now holding Baekhyun close to let him fall apart too. Baekhyun nods. Because they can. Jongdae's gone, but he's not _gone_. Minseok can see him, can hear him, can feel him in all the memories they made, the things no one can take away from him.

Jongdae didn't leave them. He's just waiting for them somewhere far away. Minseok looks out the window at the sunset that's shifting into the night and sees Jongdae's smile in the crescent of the moon. He smiles and feels a strange sort of peace. It's not the end of the hurt, that won't ever stop, but he can see the happiness that will rise up and stop the hurt from overwhelming them. It's Jongdae's smile, Baekhyun's laugh, the new box of pink hair dye in the bathroom.

It's the time stretching out ahead of them to fill with happiness and love, so much that Jongdae can feel it beyond the veil.

They'll see Jongdae again. Minseok feels it in his bones. They'll see him again, but they should enjoy the life they have left before then.

\---

“Baby,” Baekhyun looks up from where he’d been tapping his cane against the floor. Minseok kneels before him, looking just as beautiful, as _young,_ as he did when Baekhyun stopped him on the sidewalk half a century ago.

And that’s how he knows.

He sobs, tears spilling down like a storm. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the surgeon that had met with them that morning walking down the hallway towards him, head hung low. Baekhyun knew it was coming, knew the kiss before they wheeled Minseok away would be the last. He just didn’t want to admit it.

But now Minseok is here, looking so young, finally free of the headaches that had plagued him for the past months, the exhaustion that had grown on him the way it tends to as people age. And Baekhyun can admit that he knew Minseok was ready to go. Deserved to rest. Even if it means he’ll be alone until he follows after because he won’t let Minseok stay a minute longer.

Minseok leans forward and Baekhyun bends his head, closes his eyes, feels as Minseok presses his lips to his forehead.

Baekhyun smiles, chest twisting into knots. “I love you,” he sighs, seeing fifty years of a life spent together ending before his eyes. If he asked, if he begged, Minseok would stay until Baekhyun died too. But that wouldn’t be fair, not after the fifty years of waiting, of that one day each year that Minseok never quite got used to – _he’d be so old today, he’d look so old._ Baekhyun wants to ask him to stay, but he won’t. “It’s time. It’s okay, Minseok, it’s time for you to go.”

“I love you,” Minseok says. “You were never less than him to me. I love you both.” Baekhyun nods. He knows, never thought otherwise.

“I love you both too.” If Jongdae hadn’t died, if Jongdae had stayed, Baekhyun thinks they would have had one hell of a life together. “Tell him I’m coming soon.”

“Not too soon. Enjoy the time you have left.” It’s not much. There’s something wrong with Baekhyun’s heart and it’ll get him sooner or later. Part of him hopes it’s sooner. “But we’ll be waiting for you. On the other side, we’ll both be right there.”

The surgeon stops a few feet away. More tears fall. Baekhyun pushes himself to stand, old bones creaking and aching. He’s so tired.

“You’re still handsome to me,” Minseok says, always so perceptive. “And you’ll rest soon, just take your time.”

“Go. He’s waiting for you.” And Minseok stands too. He glows from the inside out just like Jongdae did all those years ago. His eyes flutter shut in relief. “See you soon.”

Minseok smiles, “See you soon.”

Baekhyun’s heart breaks into pieces as Minseok starts to fade away, but he keeps up the smile until he’s completely gone. Until Minseok finally goes home. Baekhyun will follow after before long, likely won’t even make until Christmas, but for now he faces the surgeon, hears the _I’m so sorry_ , and sobs.

\---

Minseok closes his eyes to the lights of an operating room and opens them to his front door. The pink paint isn’t fading or scratched the way it was when he closed before Baekhyun drove him to the hospital, both of them growing too old to care for it the way it deserved. It’s the same vibrant rose it was when Jongdae first painted it, the gold numbers of their address perfectly centered.

He’s dead. It hits him all at once, the realization that the surgery on his brain tumor went wrong, the realization that his heart stopped on the operating table, Baekhyun in the waiting room, hoping, praying, for him to come out okay. Minseok is dead. It should scare him more, but all he feels is guilt at leaving Baekhyun behind. And terrible, trembling hope for what lies on the other side of the door.

He wonders if he fought to live, like Jongdae did, or if he just let himself pass on. The guilt grows because he knows very well that he didn’t fight hard, if at all. But Baekhyun probably understands. When they found out about the tumor, they both knew he was more than ready to die – not ready to leave Baekhyun, but ready for his fifty years of waiting to finally end. The pain, exhaustion, age, all the things that have slowly taken root in his muscles and bones are gone; he grabs a strand of hair and pulls it down in front of his eyes, smiles at the pink.

There’s no reason to knock on the door. It’s unlocked, always unlocked for him. It swings open with the slightest of pushes and Minseok steps into what can only be heaven.

“You’re finally here.” Minseok sobs even as he smiles, legs that were so slowed down by age sprinting across the floor. Jongdae is waiting for him with open arms. He catches him, wraps him up so tightly he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he needed to. But he doesn’t, so he asks Jongdae to hold him tighter. “I missed you so much.”

“And I missed you.” Minseok breathes Jongdae in, hears his voice ring around in his skull. It’s so beautiful that Minseok feels like he’s about to burst. “I missed you every single day. Sometimes, it felt like I was just waiting for time to pass until I could see you again. I love you so much, Jongdae, you’ll never understand how much I love you.”

“I could say the same to you, kitten. I love you so much that there’s not enough room on either side of the veil combined to hold it all.”

They fall silent after that, just holding each other tight and soaking up the luxury of seeing each other again after so long. And they’ll never have to say goodbye again. They can stay like this forever if they want, can spend every single moment of eternity wrapped up in each other. It’s almost all Minseok could have ever asked for; they still need Baekhyun. But it’s more than enough.

“How much time?”

“Hm,” Minseok hums in response, too busy reacquainting himself with the feel, sight, sound, even the _smell_ of Jongdae to pay attention. He wants to taste Jongdae again too, wants to press their lips together and kiss him the way he couldn’t when he was a ghost.

“How long were you waiting? I know it was long, but time works differently here, nothing like on the other side of the veil.”

“Over fifty years. I was eighty-two when I died. Baekhyun just turned eighty a few weeks ago.” Jongdae tilts Minseok’s face up with two fingers under his chin, presses their lips together, murmurs that Minseok’s an old man. Minseok loses himself in the feeling of Jongdae’s lips against his. It feels just as it did that last morning Jongdae left for work, maybe better because he’s waited for it for so long. “Not old anymore.”

And Jongdae laughs. “No, not old anymore. You look like you did when we met Baekhyun, probably later because the tattoo on your arm. You look _beautiful_.”

Minseok smiles. Joy, light, bubbling joy, fills him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “You too. Even more beautiful than I remember.” Jongdae’s cheeks flush pink and Minseok’s breath catches in his throat.

He doesn’t have to breathe, their hearts don’t have to beat, but Minseok likes how warm Jongdae feels against him, holding him like the most important thing to have ever existed. Minseok likes feeling Jongdae’s chest rise and fall against him, his heart beat under his hand. Minseok just likes having Jongdae here. So he leans up and kisses him again, because he feels like he’s owed at least a few after half a century.

They end up on the couch, curled around each other like no time has passed at all. Minseok clings to Jongdae’s shirt, feels the sadness he was never quite able to shake in life melt away. All the pain, the hurt, the sadness, it all disappears and Minseok understands what all those religions meant by ‘eternal paradise’. He doesn’t need anything fancy, just Jongdae and Baekhyun and their house. It’s all he’s ever needed.

Minseok pulls away from a kiss that’s gone on ridiculously long because neither of them have to breathe, and flops down onto the couch cushion, smiling so widely his cheeks would ache if he could feel pain anymore.

“If you don’t want to tell me, I understand,” Jongdae starts as he lies down next to Minseok, pressing a fleeting kiss to the tip of his nose. He’s so soft, gentle in every way Minseok remembered and more. His memories of Jongdae are what got him through that first year without him, the memories and Baekhyun, but they’re nothing compared to the real thing.

Minseok just tucks his face into Jongdae’s neck and cuddles close. “There’s nothing I won’t tell you, you know that?”

“How did you die? Was it easy or was it…like me?”

Minseok wraps his arms around Jongdae and squeezes. “I died in surgery. Brain tumor. You were right, Dae, all those headaches.” Arguments from the past flash in front of him, Jongdae urging him to go to the doctor and Minseok refusing, convinced they were just migraines. He fought with Baekhyun about it too, fought until he gave in just before he turned eighty-one and the headaches were nearly constant. Minseok laughs to himself at his own stubbornness. He doesn’t regret a thing, not about the years leading up to his death.

“I don’t think I even fought to stay, just saw the light and raced for it. I don’t – I don’t think I said goodbye to Baekhyun.” That, that he regrets. Leaving without saying goodbye after all they’d been through.

But Jongdae just hums and kisses his forehead. “You did. I felt when you died, you know, just felt the veil shift for you, and you didn’t show up for a while. You didn’t leave him without saying goodbye.” Minseok releases his worry in a breath and goes back to soaking up Jongdae’s love. He looks down at his own arms and sees the tattoos he collected as he aged slowly appear on his skin. “You can take on any appearance you had while you were alive, even just parts,” Jongdae says, answering a question Minseok hadn’t even fully formed in his own head. “Did Baekhyun do all of these? They’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Minseok returns, “both of you.”

Jongdae laughs, sound echoing through the house, bringing it to life the way Jongdae always does. “I could say the same about you and him. When…when do you think he’ll be joining us?”

Minseok shrugs. If Baekhyun had his way, he’d throw his heart medication in the toilet and come running after them. But Minseok made him promise to live the rest of his life out, to let his body decide when it was ready to rest. And Baekhyun never breaks his promises. “Depends. His heart’s bad but they’ve got him on some good medicine. I think a few years maybe.”

“Well, we’ll be here when he’s ready.” Minseok nods. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, they’ll be waiting right here for him. With open arms.

\---

Time is strange here. It passes however much or however little he and Jongdae want it to, completely out of sync to the other side of the veil. He understands why Jongdae wandered now, caught between the two sides, time twisting itself around him and threatening to rip him in half.

But he’s safe here. They’re both safe here, an eternity together at their fingertips. It’s nearly perfect, just one thing missing to make this eternity the best possible eternity ever created.

Minseok doesn’t know how much time has passed on the other side of the veil, how long he’s been dead. All he knows is Jongdae, is exploring the paradise inside and outside the walls of their home. He thinks about Baekhyun. How could he not? After fifty years together, fifty years of loving and living, of arguing and coming back together because they were more important to each other than any argument, how could he not wait for the day that he gets to see him again?

One day, Minseok is grabbing Jongdae tea from the kitchen when he feels the world shift on its axis, righting itself in the most perfect way. Jongdae’s footsteps hurry down the hall as Minseok abandons the mug of tea to rush into the living room. They pause in front of the door, standing side-by-side. Jongdae takes his hand in his own and squeezes it tightly, smiling so brightly – the only sun Minseok’s ever needed.

There’s a knock at the door.

Minseok feels his heart swell, happiness and love making permanent homes in the foundation of the house, the foundation of Minseok himself. A look at Jongdae makes Minseok believe that he feels the same. That this is what he’s been waiting for – what they’ve all been waiting for since Jongdae faded away so long ago.

The door creaks open and Minseok sees beautiful, blessed, beloved auburn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading and commenting! If you liked it, please leave a kudos and a comment! Feel free to come talk to me on [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) [Tumblr,](http://killmedo.tumblr.com/) or [Curious Cat!](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO)


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